A Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit
by heartslikeloadedguns
Summary: Paige x Dean Ambrose


To the WWE Universe, Paige was a bold, confident young woman, strong and talented, beautiful and happy. She felt that admiration when she wrestled, when the cameras rolled and the fans cheered her name. Then… she'd walk back through the curtains at the NXT show, the sounds of the fans cheering fading out as people rushed around in the backstage area. She slipped through the people silently. They all knew her name, but she didn't bother to learn many of theirs.

Of course, she knew who her co-workers were. Even after so long in America, she had yet to make long lasting connections with any of them. She mostly kept to herself backstage, although that was the complete opposite of her in-ring persona. Most thought she was just stuck up, she didn't mind the assumptions. Saraya knew it would be much better for her to spend her spare time alone rather than spending it around people she had to fake a smile to get along with.

She rolled her left shoulder back, feeling an ache in it from her recent minor injury. It caused a groan to pass through her lips as she did so. Looking up, she spotted a warm smile. Although she was on her way to the Divas locker room and usually made it there as quickly as possible, she paused in the hall to smile back at Seth Rollins.

"Hey," The Iowa native spoke up, pushing off the wall him and his Shield-mates had been lounging at to walk over to the youngest Diva in the WWE.

Saraya nodded her head, lifting her good arm to push her hair out of her face, her pursed lips pushed into a smile. "Hey," she returned in a tired tone.

"Long time, no see," Seth exclaimed with a gentle laugh. He was the first person she'd ever worked with in NXT, or FCW as it was all those months ago. Although they weren't close, he managed to seek her out every time they were at any type of event together to chat.

"Yeah…" She nodded again, shrugging her pale shoulders, "how's the road treatin' ya'?" She spoke up after a moment, making rare direct eye contact as her accented voice raised enough for him to hear her properly.

"Pretty damn good," Seth replied with a grin, "You did great out there, Brit." That's what people always told her, she almost expected it from most people. Maybe it was just her charisma in the ring or maybe she really was as good as people said, but she was often praised. She really couldn't get away from it, even when she did wish she could.

"Thanks," Saraya nodded her head again, "I should get back to the locker room… all sweaty and what not." It was clearly an excuse to get out of the awkward conversation, but Seth was the friendliest person she'd ever met, she knew he didn't mind her constant short comings in conversation. Seth smiled and waved as she walked away, returning to his Shield-mates as she exited the hallway. It seemed way too long of a stretch down the hall to the Divas locker room, but it was relieving to let out a sigh of relief when she reached the large, empty room.

Saraya didn't hate people; really… she just preferred to be without them the majority of the time.

The dark haired Diva took a seat on the bench near her gym bag, slouching over herself and reaching down to untie her wrestling boots. As she unthreaded the laces from the fake leather boots, the door was silently pushed open.

"Nice match out there," A voice spoke up in a louder tone than most people spoke in. Saraya's head and shoulders jolted up, the voice very much not female. The sight of Dean Ambrose leaning against the door frame with his hands shoved in his black cargo pants was surprising to the young Diva.

"Uh… thanks?" She returned, confused, "You probably shouldn't be in here, you know."

"Who cares," Ambrose brushed off with a laugh, rolling his eyes at the British born girl, "You're lookin' great as of late, 'Raya…"

"Don't call me that," Saraya immediately shot back, her dark eyebrows knitted together as her confused gaze turned into a glare almost immediately, "I'm trying to get dressed here, you can go."

The 'spokesman' of the Shield stepped a foot into the room, raising his eyebrows. "Don't worry, I don't mind a show," he returned, his demeanor almost too nonchalant for her liking.

"I do. Go." She shot back, standing from the bench and turning to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know…" Ambrose continued, lifting a hand from his pocket and waving it towards her, seemingly unaffected by her request for him to leave, "I've always loved the sound of a British accent."

"Then go talk to Barrett or something," Saraya said with a frustrated sigh. Her shoulders lifted bolder than usual, the stance she'd often take in the ring, showing fearlessness.

"Ballsy. Also, no fun," Dean rubbed his jaw lined, his lips lifting into an open smirk as he took a step backwards. "We'll need to hang out sometime, Saraya," He let out with a chuckle as he bowed his chest forward, almost as if he were admitting defeat.

"I think not," Saraya returned with a roll of her deep brown eyes as Dean Ambrose finally made his exit from the locker room.

She walked to the door, putting her head out to see if he was gone. Almost on cue, Ambrose turned and sent the young woman a wink. Saraya let out a huff of air, annoyed by his antics, before she retracted into the locker room and slammed the door shut. She had no idea what had prompted Ambrose to follow her like he had, but as she stepped into a hot shower in the locker room, it was far, far from her mind, the only sounds being her humming of a familiar song and the water beating down off her skin and onto the tile floors.


End file.
